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I am the Weaselmomma, raising 5 children (Weasels) and 1 husband in a wacky Weasel World. I write, in order to maintain some small degree of of sanity, about anything that happens to be on my mind. Come along for the ride and we'll laugh the days away.
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Monday, August 10, 2009

When Mr. Weasel and I wed, 16+ years ago, we did so with all the bells and whistles due a princess and held our reception at a swanky resort where we would also be spending our honeymoon.

We actually could never have afforded this posh hotel, even now. However, my mother was quite a wheeler and dealer and happened to work at the resort. She had made friends with all the right department heads and made a good name for herself as a hard worker. Thus, she was able to secure an extremely lavish venue for our special day. Complete with church basement pricing.

Sounds good doesn't it? Well, it has some drawbacks too. I had been living about 1000 miles away at the time. The only decision I (or the soon to be Mr.) was included in making was via phone and consisted of "chicken of Beef?". We chose beef. I was informed that we were wrong in our choice and that we would have "chicken or beef with a fish option too". No big deal, right?

Most of my family, both immediate and extended, would also be traveling great distances to attend. I was grateful that they would go to such lengths to be there. Most of the family decided to turn it into their family's vacation and with such cut rates prices at this wonderful resort, you can guess where everyone decided to stay. No big deal right?

Everything went off without a hitch (well, there was one). The day was special and beautiful. We all had a wonderful time and after leaving the reception as the new Mr. and Mrs. Weasel, all we had to do was take the elevator upstairs to our honeymoon suite, where we found no less than 3 bottles of champagne waiting for us. Very Nice.

That is until the knock on our sweet suite door at 7:00 the next morning waking us up and forcing a groggy stagger around the room to locate some robes as the muffled reverb of 'room service' bounced off the walls around us.

I cured my disrobedness and answered the door to find a room service cart filled with fresh fruits, bagels, muffins and chocolate covered strawberries pushed into the room by none other thanmy mother.

Seriously. My mother. The Mr.'s new Mother-in-Law. In our honeymoon suite. Preparing the full service, napkin laying, high end room service treatment that we did not order. All while the Mr. and I are wearing nothing more than our all together suits and terrycloth robes. Can you say awkward?

We sat in the living room area, with full open view of our tussled sheets, while good 'ol mom continued to serve and then decided to sit down and visit a bit. I swear, you just can't make this stuff up.

I was mortified and had an odd fear that she was here in the old Italian tradition of inspecting the sheets to confirm the bride's purity and the groom'svirility before hanging said sheets over the balcony for the entirety of the village to view, and I'm not even Italian!

Dearest mother continued this morning ritual for all 4 days of our stay. I did mention to her, more than once, that this was weird and we did not require room service. My statements held as much weight as my choice of serving beef at the reception did.

Over the course of those 4 days, we didn't indulge in all of the amenities that the resort had to offer and not solely for the reasons you are thinking either. We tried to head for the beautiful outdoor pool area, only to spot my brothers and cousins hanging out poolside. We changed our dinner plans to offsite when we discovered aunts and uncles would be dining at our original choices. We found ourselves regularly sharing elevator rides with family members who anxiously asked about our plans and recaps of our days.

It's not that we didn't want to see any of these people. We really do like them, but we couldn't find any privacy even in our own hotel room. This was our honeymoon after all. A little space and privacy wasn't out of order.

And that my dear readers is why we have always continued to live at least 10 hours away from any of them for the past 16+ years.

26
comments:

That's fantastic ... and exactly why we have an ocean between my nuclear family and the rest of my family. My hubby's family, however, is welcome to live in my gust room indefinitely. They're fantastic AND respect our privacy.

Ha! This is so funny, because I can totally relate! We spent our honeymoon with my in-laws (hubby's parents). Granted they traveled all the way from NZ to be with us on the big day and wanted to spend time with us, but couldn't their hotel room been down the hall a bit???

Oh my! I just was catching up on blogreading...We live 1/2 mile from my MIL. My husband brought her along for our last anniversary dinner. Nice restaurant. She sat down, ordered, waited about 2.4 minutes and then started complaining that she didn't have her food.I asked my husband, "WHY!?" He said... "I told her we were going out for our anniversary and she asked if she could go. Was I supposed to tell her no?" pfft!

LOL. Great story! I can relate. My husband and I were supposed to get married in March but we took a trip to Vegas in November with my mom and the two of them talked me into getting married then instead of doing the planned wedding in March. So, my mom was WITH US on our honeymoon IN OUR SUITE. Too weird. :)

(At least it was one of those two bedroom thingys with a living room. Strange, but bearable.)

The only thing that could be worse is if you were to tell us that your Granmother felt you up like in "Sixteen Candles." Hanging the sheets over the balcony for the whole village to see? Classic. Made me think of "The Loneliest Runner", Michael Landon's story of his childhood when he was a bed-wetter and his mother would hang his sheets out his window for all to see. He would run home as fast as he could to try and get it down before his friends saw it.

You guys never said a word about that! I remember your Mom got somewhat miffed at our... uh... irreverence, when we had an impromptu conga line in the church... maybe she was just making sure *that* didn't happen anymore. :)